Act 1. Prologue [The Fall of Pluto]
[I was there the day Pluto fell. ]
Hundreds of red and black cables crisscrossed each other, hanging from the dark ceiling and connected to the largest data board in the room. A ticking electronic sound rang out, and a few characters lit up on the black data board.
“Common sense doesn’t qualify.”
The red-robed sage in front of the big screen said calmly,
"Correction: Hades still responds to the prayers of his followers, and the gods will not die."
"603, you still have two chances."
[You little piss-filled mind-engine! When did I curse Hades to die?! Actually—]
The sage stared at the data screen dully, and vaguely, he seemed to feel the emotion of pride on a data slate.
[It was me who saved Hades! I—]
"Not up to standard."
"Correction: It was Hades who saved the Empire."
The Sage calmly interrupted the datapad,
"603, you still have one chance."
————
O ocean of infinite change, the other side of the fantastic and strange, the gathering place of countless ingenuity, the abode of endless wisdom, the beautiful supreme sky, the exquisite vast ocean, why are you uneasy? Why are you turbulent? Why do you use your plump arms to stir up ripples in the river of fate
Billions of spiritual wisdoms flickered with flames, the stars twinkled, the sun fell, and the dark haze shrouded every corner of the eye.
If there are no wise people to stop it, if there are no brave people to step forward, if there are no kind people to dissuade, if there are no clever people to advise - the Pure Land will collapse and paradise will no longer exist!
The first cry that seemed like a smile but not a smile came from the sparkling and ever-changing maze. The strange light passed through the wise man's lens and dripped into the ocean of wisdom. The ever-changing king smiled and stroked his hand on the skin. The scales that were shining with nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine kinds of light quickly faded, and the hair composed of nine and nine hundred and ninety-nine kinds of fibers grew up. The nine nine hundred and ninety-nine hairs twisted and intertwined together to weave into a bright blue bird feather.
Zuan Biantian laughed, his sharp claws brushing across the light feathers again and again, he screamed towards the distance, and the distance responded with a roar, a whisper, and a sigh.
With a sharp whistle, nine bird feathers fell quietly.
The sigh of the wise man's contemplation blew past, blowing nine feathers from the depths of the maze, the light feathers fluttered down, trembling and about to fall into the eighth pool of blood -
A giant hand held up nine feathers, and the eternal blood energy surrounded its body. On the brass throne of eight trillion skulls, eight hundred and eighty-eight skeletons cast their eyes towards the Father of Blood. Fighters struck their axes, weapons clashed, there was a loud noise, and the war drums roared.
The brass dagger scratched across the bloody skin, spitting out eight drops of blood, revealing the pale bones. Eight drops of blood dripped onto them, and the white bones slowly turned bright red.
Nine feathers suddenly flew up, and after a faint cry, blue feathers stuck to the end of the white bones, and the feathers bloomed like a small fan.
The loving father murmured softly, panting and stretching out his hand to signal everyone in the garden to calm down. He put down the spoon that was stirring the crucible with one hand, held the bones of the Blood Lord, and reached into the huge, smelly mouth with the other hand.
With a slight groan of discomfort, the kind father withdrew his hand with satisfaction. On his palm covered with mucus, there was a rotten tooth lying, the tip of the tooth was rotten and sharp, and the seven cavities indicated its good luck. The Lord of Plague muttered seven times, smeared the mucus on his hand on the rotten tooth, and then carefully tied the tip of the tooth to the other end of the bone with his swollen big hand.
He raised his hand with satisfaction. Now the Kind Father had an arrow in his hand. The Lord of Change provided the feathers, the Lord of Blood provided the arrow shaft, and the Lord of Plague provided the arrowhead.
He slowly looked towards the Silver Palace, and three gazes pierced into it at the same time.
Under the graceful and light bed curtains, on the bed where singing and dancing were performed, a strand of tangled hair slipped down, and a lazy yawn like a complaint sounded.
There were bird calls in the maze, angry roars from the throne, and the kind father shook his head in dissatisfaction.
He stretched out his hand, and the arrow fell from the plague swamp.
Between the silk and satin, the flawless snake's feet slid down, and the Lord of Pleasure's slender tongue wrapped around the arrow shaft, licking it slowly and gracefully.
The Dark Prince who destroyed billions of spirit creatures was naturally the one chosen to shoot the arrows, the ultimate archery. The Lord of Joy cried out with joy, and He stretched out His hand to stroke His snake body, like a noble lady carefully picking out a favorite treasure, and a snake tendon was pulled out.
The tendons bend and gradually twist into the shape of a bow and arrow.
The Lord of Pleasure drew his bow with joy, and then He lowered the bow and arrow, and spoke coquettishly,
+Not enough~+
That’s not enough, this blow must hit the target, this blow must kill it, and this blow will complete the reflux of the river of destiny.
He lowered his long eyelashes, his eyes were as lively as the purest fawn,
ah!
The Lord of Pleasure cried out in surprise. He knew what was needed—
The death of a Primarch!
The altar is grand and lively. They need the death of a Primarch, a Primarch who died before it, a Primarch whose fate it had intervened in - to use it as an anchor to firmly fix the warp realm around it.
The realm of the four gods became noisy, as if celebrating the death of the cursed.
The arrow was sharp and hung loosely in the Dark Prince's arm. The Lord of Pleasure stroked it, lazily waiting for the order to shoot.
Which little cutie could it be? The Lord of Pleasure smiled and applauded his dancer, but it couldn't be the little bird he had set his eyes on.
I was blocked the second I wrote about Slaanesh. This is the third time I revised it. Some of the sentences in the Slaanesh part are incoherent, it’s not my fault.
(End of this chapter)